


The Life and Times

by Paperyink



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Gen, Post-Hogwarts, a series of stories, era appropriate freak outs, it's the 90s so paint it in body glitter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2016-11-02
Packaged: 2018-08-28 17:37:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8455672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Paperyink/pseuds/Paperyink
Summary: Harry Potter stories, filling in the pages.1. Ron and George, after the war





	

“I thought it was gonna be you, you know,” George said, glazed eyes fixed straight ahead.

 

Ron glanced at him, a quick flick to the right, but didn’t respond.

 

“Who died,” George elaborated. “If it was gonna be any one of us, I thought it would be you. I think we all did. It’s just, you know, probability; when you disappeared, it was like we started counting down the days.”

 

Ron stiffened, but still said nothing, eyes determinedly trained on the clouds over the low trees in the Burrow garden. For a moment, the clink of the empty beer bottles colliding lazily at their feet was the only sound.

 

“Talk about unexpected, the way it turned out,” George finished off bluntly.

 

“Me too.”

 

George let out a questioning grunt.

 

“I thought it was gonna be me too.” Ron clarified.

 

“Did you.”

 

“Yeah. Like you said, probability.” Ron took a deep breath, and pushed it out slowly through his nose. “Sometimes I think it should’ve been me. Like there was... some shoddy paperwork and they took the wrong one.”

 

George tore his gaze away from the horizon and, for the first time in a long time, looked at his little brother.

 

“That’s fucked up,” he said, through short, huffed laugh. It was a hideously rare, genuine thing.

 

“Yeah,” Ron murmured.

 

George turned back to the clouds, but as the sun rose slowly into the day, he reached out and clapped a hand against Ron’s shoulder, squeezing it once, tightly. Ron scraped his shoes upon the grass, a slow smile spreading across his face.


End file.
